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9/11 Story

The weather on the morning of September 11, 2001 was as beautiful as I could ever recall; so much so that I commented about it to my boyfriend as I drove to my office job from Staten Island to Secaucus, NJ. As I pulled into the parking garage there was a report on the radio of a plane crashing into the World Trade Center. I dismissed its significance and went about my morning routine. When I arrived at my desk you could see the top of the twin towers billowing with smoke and the office was abuzz with the latest news updates. My father, Joseph Grzelak, was a Battalion Chief in the 48 Battalion in Brooklyn and my 75 year-old grandfather worked in the trade center as well. I called my mom at the school she worked at to find out if she had heard from them and she confirmed that my father had been dispatched to the WTC. She spoke with him before he left and he would try to look for my grandfather. At that moment, unaware of how enormous of an event this was to become, I had the utmost confidence that my father was going to be a hero. He was a Vietnam Veteran. And after all, he was my hero and I remember proudly and facetiously saying to my colleagues, "Don't worry, firefighter Joe is on the scene. Everything will be ok." I was so proud of my father and his profession that I nearly believed he was indestructible.

The buzz in my office started to turn to a panic. There were more planes and in different cities too. We could still see the towers burning....and then we watched in horror as the first tower fell. By that time, my managers were starting to send people home. I couldn't go home. The bridges were closed. A good friend offered for me pass the time at her boyfriend's apartment. I never did thank her for that. I remember sitting on the edge of the couch, inches from the TV looking to find the name GRZELAK on every man in bunker gear that was on camera. All of them were covered in soot. You could hear the scott packs going off....those visions and sounds will never be forgotten. I was losing hope and becoming hysterical.

By afternoon we were able to confirm my grandfather was ok...bruised with stitches but thankful to be alive. The FDNY was unable to confirm the location of my father. Hotlines were setup but the traffic on phone lines made it difficult to get answers. My sole priority was to get home to my family. At 5AM the next day I received a phone call from my mom to drive to the Bayonne Bridge to meet a fire department escort. I was stopped at every police checkpoint along the way but by 7AM I was back to my family.

For days I truly believed that there was hope; that there were pockets of survivors in the underground mall waiting to be rescued. I was glued to the television and prayed for my father's safety. Approximately one week later my mom, sister and I were given the opportunity to go to Ground Zero to witness the rescue and recovery efforts. It wasn't until I arrived there that I truly understood the devastation and destruction. At that moment I knew that even my hero couldn't survive that. How could this happen? Who would want to do this to other human beings? And why me?

My father, Battalion Chief Joseph Grzelak, died on September 11, 2001. He was a 28-year veteran of the department and was 52 years old. I know that he died doing what loved. My family has had the opportunity to see some of his last moments in a documentary filmed in the lobby of the WTC. We held a memorial for him in November of 2001 and his remains were found on March 23, 2002, the day after we last visited ground zero to celebrate his March 22nd birthday. My hero could finally peacefully rest.

Our lives were changed forever. We have rebuilt. We are stronger. We love deeper. We are united. We have a motto inspired by my father's favorite song: "If you get the choice to sit it out or dance. I hope you dance." And most importantly, for the thousands of angels (and 343 special FDNY angels) who earned their wings that day...we will continue to inspire, we will continue to love our country, and we will never, ever, forget!